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About Literature / Hobbyist Rosela Marie Muller VenturaFemale/Philippines Recent Activity
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Literature
Love? Love.
Love wears many faces,
And does not always walk around in a heart-shaped box.
It’s voice is a shout,
Of anger.
Of agony.
Of repressed frustration,
At 4:34 in the morning.
Or at times is the soft sobbing on the other end of the line,
When the words “I love you” cannot be uttered in consciousness.
Love is asleep in the next room.
Sometimes, it is the gaunt face of desperation,
Drowning itself in glass after glass of cheap whiskey.
It’s eyes which look on brightly anticipating wild possibilities,
also tear,
In fear,
Of inevitable consequences.
Love is the smell of your pillow in the absence of your skin.
Love wears many faces,
Making you forget the one you first saw.
Love is not always love,
Although some may define it as such…
It is a shadow.
A washed-out grey.
A mirror reflecting a different image than what stands before it.
It is being blind.
It is opening your eyes in the dark and seeing nothing.
Love…
Is in the face of steady realities,
Not in th
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Literature
Dawn is a Thief
Hour after hour creeps quietly past me,
like tiny mice gone unnoticed in the night.
And before I know it,
Dawn is upon me.
Caught unaware.
As I lose myself in odd trivialities,
He saunters away with my time in his pockets.
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Literature
DEHUMANIZATION IN SEVEN PARTS
DEHUMANIZATION IN SEVEN PARTS
A human being in reverse.
People are human. We feel. That’s why we are called “human”.
PART I
It’s been a year, give or take a few days, and still, sleep….is ever more elusive. All that remains are brief respites of a hundred thousand blinks that ultimately add up to seven lousy minutes. I have never been one to think a great deal about numbers, but lately, let’s face it… numbers have been ruling my world. Counting the hairline cracks trailing the expanse of my ceiling that only seems to be looming closer and closer to my face with every bloodshot blink… Counting each new freckle on my face every night, under the covers, using a penlight and a small green and silver hand mirror that my brother’s girlfriend had given me two Christmases ago…two Christmases ago… feels like a fairy-tale life ago. Counting the days that never seem to end, and the nights that always come to soon… a moc
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Literature
Pretending to Sleep Beside You
Pretending to Sleep Beside You
A look of love.
A theatrical kiss.
You turn out the light, and hold me in the darkness.
I smile my plastic smile.
I yawn my cardboard yawn.
I lay my head upon your chest, and hear your steadied heartbeat beside my naked breast.
A heave of a contented sigh.
A possessive hand that grasps my thigh.
How will I get by till the distant sunrise?
I'm pretending to sleep beside you.
My face rises and falls with each breath you take,
While my own breaths expelled are so painfully fake.
My face bears the eyes that lie.
The eyes that remain open wide stare at diving swallows, disguised as shifting shadows.
While my body lies still, my mind races through meadows.
I'm pretending to sleep beside you.
You shift and turn and my eyes burn.
You wake sleepily, and draw me hungrily.
These lying eyes, I shut them quickly.
You brush a hair lovingly across my furrowed brow, kiss my forehead,
And fall back into a dream, as my eyes jolt open at the explosion of your heart dully po
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Literature
Listen
You admire,
adore,
the look of the shell.
You say it's beauty dazzles you,
and you are blinded by love.
But your sight is unimpaired.
And in truth,
you honestly love what you see.
Even if your eyes see,
You cannot seem to hear.
You are deaf to the echoing waves of my identity.
Though you may not be blind,
sadly you remain deaf...
And that is why you do not love me.
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Literature
Love is Forging Crystals
     With him beside you... as each tear breaks off the edge of the slope of your jaw, it falls into the waiting palm of his hand. And in his fist, all hurts are clenched into vapors of fading wisps of half-remembered nightmares, unable to touch you.
     Unable to even graze the edges of the breathless pounding of the sensibly ignorant heart...
     Unable to even brush against the rapidly jolting twists of the quirking complications of a broken mind...
     And as his fingers unfold in the agony he has absorbed into himself, a blazing crystal of repressed troubles...
     Of presssures and pains...
Sits peacefully in the center of a tortured palm, glowing softly....
With the radiance of self-less devotion.
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Literature
Death is a Warm Blanket
      In your solitude, as each tear breaks off the slope of your jaw, it falls into the abyss of a loneliness so encompassing that it drives you to lift the muzzle to your temple and draw the trigger, not only once but a hundred times with the sadistic gusto to end such an inexpressible pain.
     For the eruption of the bullet to break the deafening silence...driving you mad.
     For the pull of the finger... to act in one swift moment of defiance.
     For your eyes to shut decisively against the harsh spasms of blinding realities you constantly attempt to deny...
     And as metal merges with flesh, blood flows over you like a warm blanket of sweet emptiness...
And the elusive sleep you had so longed for, a serenity of wet crimson... would be here at last...
     Here to stay.
     
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Literature
Shut Your Eyes...
Shut your eyes in beautiful agony.
Hold on tightly in disconsolate embrace.
Perceive each moment in absolute empathy.
Stumble through love in absurd grace.
Shut your mouth in reticent desires.
Hold on gingerly in subtle desperation.
Perceive each hour in a pain which inspires.
Stumble surely through dreams without limitation.
Shut it.
Hold it.
Perceive it.
Let yourself fall.
Shut it.
Hold it.
Perceive it.
Savor it all.
Shut your heart in fierce denial.
Hold on serenely in gaudy movement.
Perceive each action as anything other than trivial.
Stumble confidently through life-altering moments.
Shut it.
Hold it.
Perceive it.
Let yourself fall.
Shut it.
Hold it.
Perceive it.
Savor it all.
Enfold each sadness in muscled arms and fisted palms…
Take failure into the heart and let it dissolve into the most stalwart of blood…
Bequeath the bare body to each solitude in simpering limbs…
And you will cease to be alone.
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Literature
the illusion of desire
The illusion of desire.
I would have lived with pleasure had we never met,
And my illusion not need be fragmented into the callous
Kaleidoscope of who you
are.
I would have walked in no doubt staggering through an
Impenetrable mist,
Any my illusion need not be devastated by the jagged features of
where we are.
Never should have put on my glasses,
And let the barefaced picture reveal itself to me under the stark
light of
authenticity.
Laughter is easier in soft, dim lying shades than in the brutal
intensity of a
noontime showdown.
Let's not get up close and personal,
For you can't see the nicks in a moth's wing from afar.
Let's not get up close and personal,
And I'll gaze at you adoringly as a long-off star.
Let's not get up close and personal,
I'll keep you on the top shelf in a little glass jar.
Let's not get up close and personal,
You may not be quite up to par.
I would have dreamt endlessly of you in a soundless chimera,
Had you not uttered words of inanity and cracked the illusion
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Literature
love on the bathroom wall
Love On The Bathroom Wall
(I Find Repose in Words)
I found refuge at the bottom of an empty bottle,
Now bereft of cordiality.
And fulfillment in the concupiscent words
My virgin ears devoured lusciously.
I found rapture in a needle,
And beauty in the aesthetic crimson
Lacing my skin with outlines of identity, and shades of character.
I saw clarity in the chaos of shifting shapes and figures,
And order in playfully misshapen poses.
I found tranquility in anarchy
As I swayed in clumsy cadence to the ludicrous melody of an orchestra playing in
the silence of an empty box,
Blissfully unaware.
I discovered enlightenment in a paradox,
And I tasted the elusive wholeness that has escaped me all my life,
In the saltiness trailing from the windows of my soul that came to rest
Between my yearning lips.
I found LoVe on the bathroom wall…
Almost lost in the graffiti of imbecility.
Almost swallowed by profanity.
Almost drowned in a squalid pail.
Almost suffocated by despondency and poverty.
In
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the completed tatt by thornsnpetals the completed tatt :iconthornsnpetals:thornsnpetals 0 0
Literature
No Good Deed
Pulling at a scab knowing how it's gonna bleed
Is knowing how the vampire in you is meant to feed
Squeeze the trigger to your temple knowing where its gonna lead
We know that no good deed...
Oh now no good deed goes unpunished.
Look into his eyes knowing what you're gonna find
Unearth your complex symbols but refuse to read the signs
Sitting pretty at the bus stop
when you know your ride has left you 68 minutes,
counting 69 minutes,
behind.
Swathe yourself in luxury,
Ignore the things you need
The devil wags his finger but his grin you fail to heed
Caressing roses in your garden,
paying no mind to the weeds...
We know that no good deed,
Oh now, no good deed goes unpunished.
Hear the words from his mouth,
But don't listen to the truth in his heart.
Bathe in sick perfume,
Paint the face around your warts.
Don't you know the ends not ended?
This end is just the very start...
The start of how no good deed
It's the part when no good deed
Don't be tart now!
No good deed...
You know youre not
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Thorns in BW by thornsnpetals Thorns in BW :iconthornsnpetals:thornsnpetals 1 2 My Joshua Tree by thornsnpetals My Joshua Tree :iconthornsnpetals:thornsnpetals 0 0
Literature
Satisfaction
Satisfaction is what we hope to find
In the midst of the monotony of our lives.
A delectation of the simplest kind...
May result in brief content,
If only for a passing moment.
Here one minute and gone the next,
It often leaves us anxious and vexed.
And makes us think of plans and ways
to lengthen the measure of it's stay.
It seems we are allowed tiny pleasures
to help us get through from day to day...
A momentary kiss is something to treasure,
and will keep the lonesome demons at bay...
Though not entirely drive them away,
Till we find ourselves another amusement
that beguiles us,
but is sadly evanescent.
The strategem to extend satisfaction...
Simply lies in your own volition.
Decide to cherish it for the moment it was.
Do think of why.
Think just because.
Dont cling to time
like a grasping vine
that wrings the essence out of it's beauty.
It's way of being is simply a mystery...
that may never be solved by you or me.
To keep satisfaction is to constantly recall...
How wonderful it wa
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Rosela Marie Muller Ventura
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Philippines
We are 2 sisters currently residing in a little mountain town of pine in the Philippines. My sister, Christina Marie does the watercolor, and I Rosela Marie do the poetry....
We shall be coming out with a short illustrated novel in the near future...
We do hope you take pleasure in viewing and feeling our work as much as we enjoyed making them... *^^*

Current Residence: Baguio City, Philippines


Personal Quote: every blessing ignored becomes a curse
Interests
procrastination. lists and lists of things to do. i just take one, look at it, do nothing and stuff it at the bottom of the pile. when will this ever get done? how can i even ask myself that question? 3 languages are floating around the office all at once. headache.i dont want to be alone. i just want to be left alone.
  • Listening to: esthero
  • Eating: cheese
  • Drinking: tea

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:iconpunkrocklove:
punkrocklove Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2009
welcome! hahaha. ROSIE!!! hahaha
Reply
:iconbrittybrutalxo:
brittybrutalxo Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2009  Student
thankyou for the :+fav:!
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:iconthornsnpetals:
thornsnpetals Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
i love that photo.... it's just what i had in mind when i was writing one of my stories.... :)
Reply
:iconbrittybrutalxo:
brittybrutalxo Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2009  Student
glad to be of assistance.
:D
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:iconmatthewsloan:
matthewsloan Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2009
Welcome to DA. Your gallery is wondefful both the watercolors and the poetry.
Reply
:iconthornsnpetals:
thornsnpetals Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
thanks for the warm welcome and taking the time to view our gallery...we're currently working on a short story of course accompanied by my sister's watercolors some of the writing and art currently posted was done a while back..... fresher work will be posted when edited and filtered through....
cheers matthew!
Reply
:iconmatthewsloan:
matthewsloan Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2009
Very cool. I look foreward to seeing more of your work. :)
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